


Heart of Gold

by round_robin



Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lazy Sex, M/M, Morning Sex, Scar Worship, Stripper Jaskier, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: A collection of Eskel/Jaskier prompts from my tumblr.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739158
Comments: 79
Kudos: 166





	1. All of You is Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Anon requested some Jaskier/Eskel hurt/comfort, and I'll take any excuse I can get for a little scar worship. Individual ratings on each chapter.
> 
> Rated T

Eskel was a good Witcher. No, he was a fucking amazing Witcher. Geralt had the over the top reputation, and all the impossible deeds attached to his name, but they were trained the same, they survived the same trials. If anything, Eskel was better because of the raw power of his Signs. Geralt could beat something to within an inch of its life, but Eskel could light an entire cave system on fire and suffocate whatever beast made its home there. Point being: Eskel was good at his job.

So it hurt all the more when he fucked up.

It wasn’t too bad, a wrong step and the spiked tail of the royal wyvern caught him across the face, the _good_ side of his face. With blood running in his eyes, potions coursing through his veins, Eskel regained his footing and struck, stabbing his silver sword deep into the creature’s belly. Once it stopped twitching and lay inert, only then did he lift his hand to the left side of his face.

His glove came back bloody and he hissed at the pain exploding across his cheek and jaw. Eskel wasn’t a vain man, how could he be with the face he had? But an injury to his only good side... “Fuck.”

Yanking his sword from the corpse, he stabbed it again in fury. He collected the trophy with jerky, sharp movements, and gathered a few ingredients with violent jabs of his knife. He didn’t have a hand mirror or any reflective surfaces, so he couldn’t survey the damage, it felt deep though, possibly a new scar... and not likely to heal by the time he returned to Kaer Morhen in a few days.

He was already on his way north, this was his last contract, he just needed a little more gold to make sure he had enough supplies to contribute this winter. Well now he had more scars contributed to his body. “Fuck,” he growled again.

Eskel stomped back to town, blood still running down his cheek, staining his gamebson. He said nothing as he plopped the head in front of the alderman and collected his gold. Only when he was clear of town and found a still pond to—reluctantly—look at himself in, did he survey the damage. Not as bad as his first disfigurement (nothing could compare to that) but now he was completely a monster, no safe place to rest the eye.

He cleaned the wound and tried not to see soft blue eyes... Jaskier was coming this year. Geralt’s soft, fragrant, fucking beautiful bard, the amazing human that warmed all their beds in the winter and thought nothing of kissing scarred cheeks. Eskel liked Jaskier, liked how he made Geralt feel, liked how he made them all feel, like sunshine made human. He already felt bad enough that such a beautiful, radiant man had to look upon his face and now... it was just so much worse. The wound would heal, probably wouldn't even scar, but not by the time he first saw Jaskier, he’d still look like a monster.

Head bent low, face covered with a scarf and a few bandages, Eskel walked through Kaer Morhen’s gates a few days later. He heard a fluttering human heart and looked up just in time to see Jaskier running at him, arms open. “Eskel!”

Eskel dropped his bags and caught the man as he jumped into his arms, pulling him close and breathing him in. He let his eyes fall closed and enjoyed the moment, the last one before Jaskier caught sight of the deep scratches along his face, ugly scabs covering them. They’d be gone in a few days, but he couldn’t stand the look of pity that would immediately flash across Jaskier’s face.

He pulled back. Eskel so wanted to hold him tight and hug forever, but he let Jaskier go, let him pull down the scarf and look. “Oh.” Soft lips turned down as reverent fingers hovered just over his skin. Eskel tried to turn away, but he didn’t know where to turn now. Both sides of his face were equally hideous. “Will these scar?” Jaskier asked, voice low and soft.

“Shouldn’t,” Eskel grunted. “I’m sorry, I look—”

“You look fine,” Jaskier said before he could get too deep in his self loathing. He turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Geralt! I’m helping Eskel settle in!” He heard a grunt through the stone walls and knew the White Wolf was dozing somewhere, probably enjoying a lie in before Vesemir piled on the chores.

Jaskier grabbed some of Eskel’s things and went up to his room, the Witcher traveling in his wake. Jaskier went on about the last few days— “Lambert’s not in yet, saw him on the mountain behind you. Tomorrow morning, Vesemir thinks. Geralt wanted to come early this year...” —and Eskel tried to pay attention, but his heart thumped faster and faster the closer they got to his room.

Just as he feared, Jaskier put Eskel’s things down, then started stripping him out of his clothes. “You don’t have to,” he said in protest, but let Jaskier strip him anyway. “I don’t want you to touch me like this, not until I’m healed...”

Only his smallclothes left, Jaskier’s fingers stilled. “Do you want me to stop?”

“You... I’m not fit like this. Not good enough for you.”

Jaskier let out an angry huff and started removing his own clothing, pushing Eskel into the bed. “Excuse me, but I think I should be able to decide for myself if I want to touch you.” Thin fingers skated down his chest, rubbing over his nipples, then each of the scars on his torso. All were raised and ugly, the result of venom in the wound, or dirt, or a gnarled claw making a ragged, uneven cut instead of a clean one. “The scars on your face are no different than these.”

Jaskier was quiet then, hands roving across Eskel’s skin, sometimes his lips as well. For the next twenty minutes, Jaskier touched every scar he could find, a little ritual he did with all of them. Finally, he reached for Eskel’s face, lips falling into familiar grooves as he kissed from Eskel’s chin to his hairline, following the jagged scars all the way up. He continued down over the other side, being very careful with the raw, pink tissue. A sob welled up in Eskel’s chest, but he held it back.

“You’re beautiful and I love you,” Jaskier whispered. He placed on last kiss on Eskel’s forehead and settled on his chest, warm and human and alive, heart beating right on top of Eskel’s.

They lay together like that until Geralt stumbled in, a little sleepy from his nap. He stripped as well and climbed in, large arms keeping them both warm. Eskel closed his eyes and for the first time in days, he didn’t think about his stupid, ruined face.

By the end of winter, Eskel’s injury was healed, not a single mark left, not even a new scar. All the same, when Jaskier kissed across his skin, paying attention to every last scar, he kissed Eskel’s unblemished cheek as well, “Because all of you is beautiful.”


	2. Buttercup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As far as birthdays went, this one wasn't bad, maybe his brothers were mellowing a little, learning that they couldn't force their idea of fun on Eskel all the time. Maybe—
> 
> Geralt slammed the doors closed and the locks clicked. A mad gleam entered his eye as they pulled away from the restaurant. “Time for your surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested "Eskel getting dragged to a strip club by his brothers, meets 'Buttercup.'" I have to admit, this is one of my favorite prompts I've done so far. It took me a while to get around to because I have zero experience with actual strip clubs, just (incorrect) things I've absorbed from TV and movies. But I ended up really liking how this came out, hope everyone else enjoys too. No sex in this one, but a lot of flirting and... body language.
> 
> Rated E (for exciting)

He told them he didn't want to do it, all Eskel wanted for his birthday was a nice, quiet dinner he didn't have to cook. But neither Lambert nor Geralt could cook worth a damn, so they said they'd take him out, “We'll pay, promise,” Geralt said, ignoring the very obvious solution of just getting take out instead.

“Fine.” Eskel resigned himself to a nice-ish dinner, and then drinks at whatever bar Lambert wasn't kicked out of this month. His brothers were sweet, and they loved him, they were always there for him through thick and thin. He just wished they were less of a fucking handful.

Lambert at least had an excuse, he was still in school, used to partying with friends, staying out late... But Geralt was a fucking construction foreman. He had adult responsibilities, he took care of more than half of their rent, shouldn't he be the down to earth one? But no, it was Eskel, the writer living off his advance and trying to finish his next manuscript before his deadline... he didn't have time to go out for his birthday, but that's what they were doing.

“You'll have fun,” Geralt said, leaning over to nudge Eskel's shoulder, keeping one eye on the road, the other on Lambert in the back seat as he made a nuisance of himself. “Got a surprise for you.”

Eskel _hated_ surprises. The restaurant Geralt picked out was good at least, not too fancy, but not an every day burger and fries kind of place. Eskel had a plate of thick ravioli that tasted freshly made, no boxed pasta here, and a few glasses of wine. The waiter brought over their free dessert and he blew out the tiny candle. When they got back into the car, Eskel was smiling. As far as birthdays went, this one wasn't bad, maybe his brothers were mellowing a little, learning that they couldn't force their idea of fun on Eskel all the time. Maybe—

Geralt slammed the doors closed and the locks clicked. A mad gleam entered his eye as they pulled away from the restaurant. “Time for your surprise.”

Eskel groaned. “You mean that wasn't it? The fact that you two managed to pick out a nice restaurant was surprising enough for me.”

“Nope, still got more to do,” Lambert said from the back seat.

Eskel sighed and slumped back into his seat, full and a little tipsy at least, Geralt offered to drive tonight, so Eskel could actually enjoy the traditional drinking parts of the birthday celebration. But whatever they had planned next, he was not looking forward to it.

As they drove, the streets got darker and darker, large industrial warehouse type buildings replacing fast food places and shops. Just as Eskel was about to ask if his brothers were going to take him out and shoot him, hide his body in a warehouse, the bright glow of pink, red, and white neon scratched at his eyes. “No, you're kidding.”

“Afraid not.” Lambert surged forward from the back seat, propping one arm on their seats and leaning between them. “You're going to love it, trust us.”

“I am never trusting you again,” Eskel groaned as the pulled into the parking lot of the strip club. The sign for _Candies_ , blinked at them and Eskel scrunched lower in his seat. Fuck, Geralt and Lambert, the idiots were thinking with their cocks, just because they liked strippers didn't mean Eskel did. Besides, he wasn't into women like that, he'd had a few dates in college, but no sparks, and the few brief flings he had with men were amazing, but so fleeting, they couldn't rightly be called a relationship.

They parked and Geralt and Lambert got out of the car. They accepted that they'd have to drag Eskel into the club and got to work, wrestling him out of the car and pinning him between them with no chance of escape. His face flamed red as Geralt paid their cover and they walked through a beaded curtain.

If possible, the inside was more garish than the outside. The left half of the club was done up in white lights, all the dancers wearing some sort of white with their... uh, _costumes_. On the right side, pink and red flashed everywhere, with outfits to match. Eskel was very focused on not staring, so it took him a second to realize: the right half of the club was filled with women twirling and shaking on stages and poles, the left side was filled with men doing similar activities.

Lambert squeezed his shoulder and leaned in his shout in his ear to be heard over the pounding music. “We're not leaving until you pick a side. No judgment, big brother, where do you want us to set up for the night?”

Eskel spared the barest glance for the woman. They were overly made up and a little skinny, breasts bouncing, asses shaking, a few women were thicker, looked soft and warm... But his eyes gravitated towards the side of the room bathed in white. Thickly built men with rippling, oiled muscles danced and gyrated, while thinner dancers twirled on poles, their muscles more lithe, but no less... stimulating.

Accepting his defeat, Eskel nodded towards the stage with an attractive brunette in a crop top and a pair of cutoff shorts, the fly already open. “Over there, the, the men.”

Geralt pulled him into a one arm hug and smacked a kiss on top of his head. “No shame in it. You like who you like, let's go.”

They sat down in front of the stage (more like a catwalk with a pole at the end) where the man in the short-shorts and crop top was dancing. A few other men and a group of women that looked like a bachelorette party were in the same area, but they were looking all over the place, sampling all _Candies_ had to offer. Eskel sat down between his brothers and Geralt shoved a wad of ones into his hand, a few fives mixed in. Well, there was nothing for it now. Swallowing away his nervousness, Eskel looked up.

A set of very blue eyes met him, white glitter sparkling around them. Fluffy brown hair swept into his eyes, but a quick toss of his head and a roll of his hips and they were clear again, and looking down at Eskel. “Mmm, hi boys,” the man purred, crouching down and spreading his legs, drawing attention to the bulge at the front of his very, very tight shorts. It was not a small bulge either.

A white thong peeked out from the open zip and Eskel saw what looked like a yellow flower pattern. He tried to look away, but those eyes held him. The stripper surged to his feet again and turned around, hooking his thumbs in the band of his shorts and slowly pushing them down...

Two absolutely bite-able cheeks appeared and Eskel's breath caught. At the swell of his left cheek, there was a tiny buttercup tattoo. Eskel shifted in his chair, his pants suddenly very tight. The man winked again and kicked the shorts to the other side of the catwalk before bending back until his shoulders hit the stage, hips pushed up, showing off the bulge in his white thong, fingers teasing over his own stomach.

“I'm Buttercup,” he said in a breathy purr. “If you hadn't guessed. What're you boys here for?”

“It's his birthday,” Geralt said, nodding to Eskel. Though his eyes wandered around to see all the dancers, he paid attention to the man in front of them, who seemed to be giving them a private show. All the other customers had moved towards other stages, leaving the three of them alone with Buttercup.

“Oh, happy birthday, big man. Give you half price on a private dance.”

“Nah, he's good,” Lambert interrupted before Eskel could agree to something stupid. For once, he was glad his brothers were there, because Eskel's rational mind had left the building.

Buttercup's skin looked so soft, so smooth. Everyone else in the room was oiled up and glimmering, but he looked almost powdery soft, like fresh fallen snow that floated back up in the air at the smallest breath. The tight white crop top showed off his lithe stomach, and the white thong left nothing to the imagination. On his back in front of them, Buttercup pointed one leg towards the ceiling and stretched his arms forward, almost close enough to brush Eskel's chest...

Without thinking, Eskel pulled a few dollars from the wad Geralt gave him and slipped them onto the stage. Buttercup's eyes sparkled and he rolled over, making a show of picking the money up in long fingers and shoving it down near his cock.

He dragged a hand over the bulge in his thong and threw his head back. “Thank you, birthday boy.”

“You're welcome,” Eskel whispered. He probably was too soft, what with the music, but Buttercup winked all the same, blowing him a kiss.

Geralt took some of the cash too and moved to a nearby stage, making eyes at a woman with long black hair, and a man with blonde curls. Lambert stayed by his side though, tucking some of the bills into Buttercup's thong right along with Eskel, always winking as he did it. After a while, it really felt like Buttercup (definitely not his real name) was dancing only for them, smiling for them, blowing kisses to Eskel...

No, it was stupid. He was a man doing a job, doing it very well, making his customers feel special. And yeah, Eskel did have fun (which he wasn't going to tell Geralt about, the bastard would gloat) but he wasn't the kind of idiot to fall in love with a stripper.

Buttercup's show ended and he stood up, hips still swaying, but the extra layer of sexiness fell away; there were no more coy winks or hair tosses, but he was still conversational, and a little flirty. He patted the very large bump at the front of his thong, his crop top long abandoned. “I think most of this is from you, thanks.” He turned around and paused long enough for Eskel to get a really good look at the little buttercup on his ass cheek, before sauntering away and heading towards the back. He paused at the end of the cat walk. “By the way, happy birthday,” he said, then stepped off the stage.

They left shortly after, Eskel was... he got his money's worth. Or Geralt's money's worth. He had a nice time and right now, all he wanted to do was go home and fuck his fist until he cried out in pleasure. Geralt and Lambert were also sporting semis as they walked back to the car. Eskel slumped into the front seat and closed his eyes, the image of that tattoo etched into his memory.

In the back seat, Lambert was ready to drift off. He had a few more drinks and since he wasn't driving, he could do what the fuck he liked. But his phone buzzed and he grumbled, fishing in his pocket for it. A text from one of his school friends shined up at him and he smirked.

_Jaskier: You're going to introduce me to your brother_

Lambert snorted and texted back.

**Lambert: Which one?**

_Jaskier: don't be an ass about this. I know why you brought them here. Fuck if I ever tell you a secret again. Introduce me_

**Lambert: fine, call you later**

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and smirked to himself. Despite what his brothers thought, college parties weren't Lambert's scene, he preferred studying in the library. His friend Jaskier was usually there with him, both of them more than a little wired on way too much coffee as they crammed.

One night a few weeks ago, both of them way too sleep deprived, trying to remember a few more formulas before their chem test, Lambert asked, “You have a secret you've never told anyone? In high school, my first girlfriend told everyone that we had sex in the library, but we never... I didn't lose my virginity until freshmen year. Everyone thinks I'm like that though, even my brothers.” He didn't know what made him admit it, the late hour, too much coffee mixed with redbull, or the fact that whenever he was in a library, he thought about that fucking story that followed him to graduation.

Jaskier had his head slumped across their text book, blue eyes more than a little bloodshot. “That sucks, it's tough when people think you're one way and you really aren't.”

“Yeah.” They sat in silence for another moment before Lambert kicked Jaskier under the desk. “What's your secret?”

Jaskier bit his lip, then sighed. “I work as a stripper. I go by Buttercup.”


	3. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier woke up with a cock pressed into his lower back. He frowned. Normally, he had more than one cock pressed against him first thing in the morning, and he felt around the bed for the two other warm bodies that should be there. Nope, nothing. The sheets were rumpled, still warm, but sadly, he only had one Witcher in bed with him. Oh well, no one could say Jaskier didn’t make the best of a dire situation.
> 
> Rolling over, he thrust into his morning visitor, mumbling, “Is that all for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crateofkate requested Jaskier/Eskel sleepy morning sex. Background Jaskier/Witchers, but this just features the two of them.
> 
> Rated E

Jaskier woke up with a cock pressed into his lower back. He frowned. Normally, he had more than one cock pressed against him first thing in the morning, and he felt around the bed for the two other warm bodies that should be there. Nope, nothing. The sheets were rumpled, still warm, but sadly, he only had one Witcher in bed with him. Oh well, no one could say Jaskier didn’t make the best of a dire situation.

Rolling over, he thrust into his morning visitor, mumbling, “Is that all for me?”

The body next to him shifted and soft lips slid down his neck, a musky scent surrounding him. _Eskel._ “Depends. You want it?”

“You know I do.” Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open as he pawed through sheets and thick furs, trying to actually locate the cock he’d found by touch alone. After a moment of fruitless searching, he let out a groan and threw the furs onto the floor. But the rush of cold air over his skin was worth it, cock successfully found.

He wrapped his fingers around the base and tugged lightly, it wasn’t his most artful hand job but the bead of precome welling at the tip seemed to sing his praises. “Tease,” Eskel mumbled, his eyes still closed.

Large hands settled on Jaskier’s hips, pulling him in close so Eskel could roll on top of him. He pressed kisses down Jaskier’s spine while one hand reached out blindly for their slick. He quickly located the tin, well, _a tin_ (truth be told they were never far away from a pot of salve) and got it open, the top falling onto the floor and rolling away.

“Fuck.”

“Ignore it, we’ll find it later.” Jaskier arched back into Eskel, tipping his hips and brushing that thick cock. They were barely awake, eyes still blurry with sleep, but fuck Jaskier wanted, he wanted Eskel pushing him into the bed, the fingers between his legs, slicking his hole and down his taint with clumsy movements.

Jaskier was still open from their love making last night and didn’t need much. Soon enough he was ready, cooing and begging for Eskel’s cock. More slick was applied and a moment later, the blunt head of Eskel’s ample prick pushed in, spreading Jaskier open once again. “Mmm, oh yes please.”

“You like that?” Eskel whispered into his neck. It wasn’t the sexiest bedroom patter, but it did the trick. With the morning light warm on their skin, they both came to a lazy climax, spilling across already filthy sheets.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered as Eskel rolled off. He turned onto his side to gaze at his early morning lover, the only one who stayed with him waiting for Jaskier to wake and—

A soft snore rolled from Eskel’s chest. His cock was still half hard, glistening with slick and come, and he was fucking asleep again. Jaskier rolled his eyes and stood up, getting a cloth to clean _himself_ up. “You didn’t even open your eyes, did you?”

“Nope,” Eskel mumbled. “Give me ten more minutes. Fuck you better then.”

Jaskier dropped down into the bed and kissed up Eskel’s chest, biting down on his perfect pectorals and licking across a nipple. “Darling, you already fucked me good.” Whether Eskel was fully awake or not, morning sex was always perfect.


End file.
